Good night, Sweet Ponce. Flights of Angels sing thee to thy Best.

From Cartoon Movement

Mike Pence is running for President of the United States of America. Anyone surprised?

The rhyme scheme and meter appropriated from I Know an Old Lady as written by Rose Bonne (lyrics)  and Canadian/English folk artist Alan Mills copyrighted in 1952. Sung by a young Burl Ives in the video below.

CLOTHESPIN OPTIONAL

I know a guy
Who lives in a shoe.
Everyday he has
Nothing to do.
But cavil and sigh.

I know a guy
Who swallowed some poo.
No one knows why
He swallowed doo doo.

I know why he did that jig.
He swallowed doo to help a Pig.
Let's make him cry.

I know a guy with bleeding eye.

I know why he's covered fly.

It's all because he swallowed pig doo.

Smells foul now morning poo from the prig do.

Cavil and sigh. 

TRUMP'S GUN - Twang Goes the Magic Google Finger

“The right of a nation to kill a tyrant in case of necessity can no more be doubted than to hang a robber, or kill a flea.” ― John Adams

One of the most striking images of this administration and Trump's election for me was Trump aiming a pretend gun through the TV at Americans.

I googled 'images TRUMP TARGET' in honor of Trump and his crowds calling for the death of Hillary Clinton. Remember Palin's targets on the faces of Dem politicians?

Maybe Trumpolini should have read the Bible as well as Mein Kampf. As He sowed, so he reaps. Do not come after me, NSA. I am a scholar. This is what I found with a random sampling. I entitle this photoshop art on the left below 
What me worry?

If all printers were determined not to print anything till they were sure it would offend nobody, there would be very little printed. - Benjamin Franklin

"Apology for Printers" (1730); later in Benjamin Franklin's Autobiographical Writings (1945) edited by Carl Van Dore

"Government is not reason, it is not eloquence, it is force; like fire, a troublesome servant and a fearful master. Never for a moment should it be left to irresponsible action." - George Washington

An article entitled Voices from Donald Trump's Rallies, Uncensored is Worth Reading. You can hear the crowd call for Hillary's death. Hillary won the popular vote. 

I got thrown off twitter for quoting John Adams, specifically the quote with which I began this bitty photo essay. And I said that I am praying for a patriotic Armed Forces Sniper Team. Took about a week for twitter to deep-six me. Trump still had his twitter at the moment. And Trump was actually, and has been killing Americans. Non, je ne regette rien. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. 

Veteran's Day

The Latin in this poem means: "Sweet and fitting it is to die for one's country."
(From Horace, Odes, III. ii. 13)

2nd Lt, Wilfred Edward Salter Owen, 5th Bn. Manch. R., T.F., attd. 2nd Bn.
Awarded the Military Cross for conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty in the attack on the Fonsomme Line on October 1st/2nd, 1918. On the company commander becoming a casualty, he assumed command and showed fine leadership and resisted a heavy counter-attack. He personally manipulated a captured enemy machine gun from an isolated position and inflicted considerable losses on the enemy. Throughout he behaved most gallantly.

DULCE ET DECORUM EST

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!
--An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

- by Wilfred Owen

 Benjamin Britten's War Requiem incorporating the poetry of Wilfred Owen.

I am back now. I knew my people would come for me.

I was afraid I was going to die. It was close. I have improved. The Doctors and AI at Penn have told me I have an 80% chance of living another 10 years. Whoopee! Thank you for your support.

I am getting my mojo back and sort of hiding. I have been isolating. I yell at folks I do not know online. I find that soothing. I have been saner. I have been a lot saner. I need the 'advise and counsel' of my Friends. 

I am lower than a worm's dupa 

and 

making plans for a new beginning for this

 /Ship of Lustfull Fools and Fey Keyboard Warriors/

at the same time. We have been doing this mess together for a decade now, Cher Readers. 

I am still having a good time, but google hates me. I paid for them for another year. I am buying a new farm. I will have my own domain. Look at me, acting like I know what I am talking about. I need my computer-literate buddies, maybe. 

Agitated Depression Lady Shrink calls what I am experiencing. Melancholia Agitata sounds a lot more glamorous. That is what this THING used to be called. It is not pretty. 

Larry Motuz, if you look at Popular Posts in the left column, you will see the most-read articles of the past year. Your excellent message is one of them. Abortion and the American Family

Welcome home, Diggy Doo. I will be back to write more. I need a nap so bad right this moment. I have gained about 10 pounds, but I wear out easy. I am a chronic pain patient. I am bipolar. And in the midst of it all, I am happy happy happy as can be.